


A king's friend

by TuridTorkilsdottir



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Oneshot, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuridTorkilsdottir/pseuds/TuridTorkilsdottir
Summary: Only a few weeks after Halfdan Ragnarsson had crowned himself king of Jorvik he had left his throne for a walk and not returned.Eivor had not wasted any time to go and find him.
Relationships: Eivor (Assassin's Creed)/Halfdan Ragnarsson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	A king's friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rising_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/gifts).



> For my beloved Phoenix, who shares my size kink (like in "height"! xD)
> 
> I'm still playing the game and stumble over one great pairing after the other. I had to write this, I'm not sorry.  
> Ingame-dialogues mixed with my writing. Their conversations were to good!
> 
> Enjoy <3

**Jorvik:**

Eivor was riding through the twilight just as swift as the pale light of the full moon allowed it. The hooves of his horse stomped aside the snow, while it’s hard breath rushed from it’s nostrils like steam.

“Weep for Northumbria”, Moira the healer had said with a troubled look on her face. “His heart is broken. He is a mere shadow of himself. With Faravid lost and his brothers away, he wallows in paranoia and sadness.”

Only a few weeks after Halfdan Ragnarsson had crowned himself king of Jorvik he had left his throne for a walk and had not returned. Moira supposed he could be found in Scarborough, near the lighthouse, for he used to mention the pleasant view.

And Eivor had not wasted any time to go and find him.

While he pressed his thighs against the saddle of his mount he thought back to their first meeting.

  
  
  


**Donecaestre:**

Halfdan had summoned him to his fortress, stating he wanted to meet the _drengr_ who had helped to secure Jorvik. Eivor had followed his call immediately, eager to meet the eldest son of Ragnar Lothbrok, hero in countless songs of the skalds.

Before he got there though, he found himself fighting side by side with Halfdan’s second-in-command Faravid against a pile of picts. Just when the fight seemed to be over they got ambushed by a group of archers and would have found their cold grave that day, if not for Halfdan. 

Roaring like a bear, the giant man had appeared out of nowhere, slaying five men within a breath’s time with his huge hammer and bare hands. His shoulder length hair and his beard were gray, speaking of the many winters he’d seen already. Yet his body was nothing but broad muscles, vested in leather, fur and metal. A sight to behold.

Eivor had followed him and his men to the fortress, where a drinking feast already awaited them. There, he’d finally found the opportunity to introduce. 

Standing firm in front of the throne, he said: “Halfdan Ragnarrson. My sword-arm answers your call.” 

The jarl looked at him with suspicion. “I don’t know you. One of Faravid’s new dogs?”

“I’m Eivor of the Raven clan”, he explained.

Features softened, giving way for a smile. “Eivor! Yes. Kingmaker with my brothers Ivarr and Ubba. From the tales I heard, I feared you might be taller.”

Smirking at the remark, he responded: “That’s not a fear you feel often, I imagine.” 

Halfdan laughed. His deep, scratchy voice echoed on the walls of the hall.

Getting one step closer, Eivor said: “My lord, in your summons you said…”

“Shhh, not here, not now”, Halfdan interrupted him. “Dance, sing, and fill yourself with ale, then meet me atop this tower of stone.”

Eivor nodded, but he did not waste much time. Just a horn filled with mead to calm himself, before he followed the famous warrior to the highest room in the fortress. Which he found to be his bedroom. 

“Ah, come, let me show you a wonder”, Halfdan greeted him and stepped outside on the wooden platform that extended the room. 

Doing so, he could not avoid an amazed smile at the stunning view over Eurevicshire.

“All this. We conquered this. He and I. Together”, the tall man stated. 

“You’ve earned great fame, won many battles across England.”

“But not alone, no no. Bjorn Ironside, fearless Ubba, Ivarr the Boneless. Sigurd Snake-in-eye. Great warriors all. My brothers.”

Eivor crossed his arms. “Gold is good and battle better, but glory never dies. Forever it lives in the hall of heroes, high on valor’s steed.”

Halfdan made a step forward and leaned himself against the balustrade. His eyes wandered over the shire. “Together we have conquered. Together with my friends, my clan. One sword is not an army, Eivor. Even a hero needs loyal friends. I have never lost sight of that. Never!”

Eivor shifted his weight from one leg to the other, before he dared to ask: “Have you room for one more among those you call friends?”

“What does friendship mean to you?”, Halfdan replied and turned around to face him.

“Friendship goes beyond words. It is a solemn bond, a chain unbroken.”

With a nod the tall man went back inside, where he told Eivor about the suspicion that tortured him. His conclusion, that Faravid was most likely poisoning him, betraying him, and he wanted Eivor to find out if he was right.

The latter agreed and was already about to leave, but the jarl held him back.

“Allow me one more question. My brother, Ubba, would you call him a friend of yours?”

“Yes, Lord.”

"Hm. I heard, he is very fond of you”, Halfdan hinted, while he started walking around Eivor like a wolf surrounding his prey.

Eivor furrowed his brows, watching every step of the other man. “If that’s so, I can only feel honored.” 

“And I heard you shared much more with him, than ale. Every time you’ve met.” With that, Halfdan stopped, his eyes piercing him like arrows.

Eivor shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “I helped him with his tasks. That's all that should interest you.”

With a growl and two fast steps Halfdan pushed him against the stone wall behind him. One of his huge hands around Eivor's neck, almost taking his breath. "How did you find your way into my brother's bed? Speak!" 

Surprised by the sudden outburst, Eivor swallowed hard against the broad palm that held him, before he said: "I… I didn't force it, Lord. We drank, we talked, we enjoyed ourselves. That’s all." 

Halfdan squinted. “Is that what you came here for, Wolf-kissed? To sneak up on another Ragnarsson?” 

“That's not what I intended, when I followed your call”, Eivor assured hoarsely. But being so close to the giant that he smelled his mead-sweetened breath, he could not help but add: “Though I… I would not object.“

Halfdans grip got even tighter, making Eivor feel dizzy. His blood rushed into his head. And other areas. 

When the Jarl shove one of his broad thighs between his legs, finding him hard, he groaned. The grip loosened slightly, but he pushed Eivor's head even a bit higher, to face him. 

“What's with that?”, he asked warily. 

“Forgive me, Lord. It's like that since I saw you swinging your hammer in the open field. When you broke those pict’s necks with your bare hands. You are a force of nature. I cannot help but admire that.”

Something in Halfdans expression changed, when he took off the pressure from the smaller man, their bodys still in touch. His hand wandered from his neck up to his face, the thumb stroked over his lips harshly and then pushed impetuously into his mouth. 

It was impossible for Eivor to hold in an aroused sigh. He closed his eyes, while his tongue touched the knuckle. Under shaking breath, he closed his lips around it and started sucking it slowly. 

He knew that this could be his end. If the giant was just playing or testing him, he would most likely rip his head off without effort. But he did not.

Halfdan hissed and allowed the movement for a while, before he let go of the blonde. The suspicion still written onto his face. But now mixed with something else. 

Desire. 

“Off”, he demanded gruffly, with a glance over Eivor's clothes. 

The latter obeyed gladly, full of excitement, and Halfdan was swallowing hard, while he watched him divest. Taking in every inch of bared skin, until he was confronted by him being fully naked. 

“Bed”, was his next command. 

Eivor did not hesitate, sat down onto the furs on his knees and heels and waited for his next order. Halfdan followed him, casting off leather, fur and metal from his body and stopped at the bedside. 

When his eyes started wandering down Eivor’s body, the latter took the initiative, got up to his knees and touched the prominent hardness behind Halfdan’s trousers, making him groan deeply from his throat. 

He was huge, as expected. This wouldn't go unprepared. 

“Let me get something”, he murmured against the taller man’s chest and grabbed his belt pouch, getting out a small flask of oil.

Halfdan watched him with questioning eyes, but remained silent. And then took a seat on the bed together with Eivor, who helped him out of his trousers immediately, coated both his hands with oil and closed one of them around the prominent plow-sword of the Jarl. 

“Gods!”, Halfdan shouted at the sensation of the sudden touch and moaned louder with every stroke.

Eivor sat down on his lap and continued the movement, while he began to work himself open with two fingers of his other hand. Biting his lips under the intense feeling of his own touch.

“Let me”, Halfdan demanded hoarsely and threw Eivor into the furs next to him easily, as if he were a wooden doll. Without hesitation he shove two tall fingers into him, making him cry out at the sudden stretch. Eivor rocked against his hand in earnest, panting heavily.

He could not wait any longer. He needed more. All. He wiggled himself free, pushed Halfdan onto his back and quickly took place on his lap again.

“If you allow”, he said teasingly, before he arranged himself on top of Halfdans hardness and started to take him in. 

It was too much, too soon, but Eivor craved to feel him, ignoring the burn for the sake of satisfaction, consuming him deeper and deeper.

Feeling filled like never before, he moaned shameless and louder with every move of his hips. He rode the godlike warrior beneath him like a horse, until they both groaned and wasted their seed and he collapsed onto his broad chest.

  
  
  


**Scarborough:**

When Eivor arrived at the ruin of the old lighthouse shortly after dawn, he spotted the huge silhouette of Halfdan instantly.

He was sitting on a wooden bench next to the building, his head hidden within his palms, lamenting: “No glory, no hope. Nothing but snow, silent as a corpse in its grave.”

Eivor cleared his throat. “Stand up, Halfdan. I’m taking you back to Jorvik.”

The giant looked at him for a moment and laughed bitterly.

“Up, my lord. You’re a king, you’re not allowed to sulk. Men bled and died to sit you on that throne. So go, sit!”

Halfan stood up and took a few steps forward to the cliff. Watching the waves beneath them rushing against stone, he asked. “My brother Ivarr, did he die well?”

“He died fighting.”

“You slew my brother and never said a word. You kept this from me.”

“It was no secret. Ubba knew, did he not...”

“Leave me!”, Halfdan yelled, but he did not turn around.

“I will not. I’ve come to see you safely home. Now come.”

But the king continued staring into nothingness. Both men remained silent, listening to the sound of wind and waves, before Halfdan grabbed his hammer, looking at it with a pained smile. “My father, Ragnar, he gifted this to me. Took it off a Finnish chief. Still warm with blood when he handed it to me. I had fourteen winters.”

Eivor now smiled, too. “Ragnar Lothbrok was a great king.”

Halfdan sighed and finally turned around, stepping away from the cliff.

“That was years ago, in the east. And this is the west, where my father lies dead. A pile of bones in a pit of snakes.”

Getting closer to him, Eivor said: “And here we are, still telling stories of his life and deeds. Like those, who will follow us, will tell stories about you, Halfdan king. Conqueror of the north, slayer of saxons and picts, first norse king of Jorvik.”

“Heavy lies the head that wears the crown”, Halfdan murmured.

“You’ll get used to it”, Eivor assured him quietly, while he leaned himself against the broad chest, resting his head against the other’s heart for a moment of comfort.

The heat of their first meeting was long gone. The flames extinguished during the night they had spent together. Still, he could feel Halfdan smile, when he stroked his back softly and took a deep breath, before they parted again.

“With Faravid gone, I have room for one more true friend. If this is still in your interest.”

Eivor bowed his head and nodded. “I’d be honored, Halfdan King.”

“Very well. Friend. You’re always welcome in my halls.”


End file.
